


Stronger

by daphnerunning



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-04 03:46:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/706191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daphnerunning/pseuds/daphnerunning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morgiana has trouble adjusting to what is expected of her as a lady. Masrur helps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stronger

Masrur doesn’t spend a lot of time with seamstresses.

That being said, some instinct leads him by today, bare feet sensing currents of tension, little ripples in the stone floors of Sindria that make him walk quicker than usual. He hardly has a sense of precognition like some of his friends, but that makes him all the more inclined to listen to it when he does feel something.

“Now, my lady, you can’t go wearing bare feet to a feast. It’s not sanitary-like.”

“King Sinbad doesn’t mind if I go barefoot.”

“You’re not just sitting with his Majesty, are you?” 

Masrur leans forward, peering through a crack in the door. For a big man, he knows how to stand silently, picked up over a thousand nights of guard duty, letting his companions sleep while he made sure nothing got past. 

The seamstress sighs, and stands Morgiana up, and in three tugs of fabric is swaddled in a dress so tight it gives her a slender waist, emphasizes the bust, and keeps her knees together. Masrur knows, because the seamstress points it out, tugging and adjusting. “Now, dear,” she says indulgently, clipping Morgiana’s hair into place with a pin, “I know you were raised by some rather awful gentlemen, if I understand correctly, but I’m helping you. You have your eyes set on a young man, don’t you?”

“I…”

The seamstress settles down onto her heels, patting a knee and pinning the dress into place, no matter that it looks like Morgiana is having trouble breathing. “Bare feet and shapeless sacks aren’t the way.”

“But he wears shapeless sacks.”

“Men are different. They don’t want women who can throw them over a shoulder, they like women to be delicate.”

Masrur watches, as Morgiana’s usually stoic, slightly amused expression becomes more serious, face falling. She stands quietly for the rest of the fitting, and by the time it’s over, walks awkwardly out of the room. She doesn’t look at Masrur, but doesn’t look at all surprised that he’s there, either. “She’s wrong,” she says quietly. “Isn’t she?”

Masrur reaches down and with a single jerk of two large hands, tears a slit in the dress down the side. Morgiana gives him a little smile, and with a curl of her toes, pops out the soles of the shoes. “Most Fanalis women don’t have to deal with this, do they?”

“Most Fanalis women just hit their men over the head.”

“Think I should try that?”

“Fanalis men have thick heads. Be careful.”

Morgiana looks down. “You’re not wearing shoes. Doesn’t she bother you about it?”

“His Majesty told me that if I wanted to make myself useless to look good I could get painted in gold and become a statue.”

Morgiana nods slowly. “I see.”

She turns as quick as a snake, lashing out with the heel of her hand at the center of Masrur’s gut, hard enough to punch through solid wall. He leans to the side, catching her arm and throwing her, and in a second she pivots in the air, leaving two craters behind from her feet as she leaps down at him from the ceiling.

When her fist collides with his jaw, she stops, standing still with her head bowed. “You let me get that one.”

“No.”

“Liar.”

“You are very skilled.”

“Don’t let me win! You should be tougher on me if I got stronger, otherwise I’ll be no use to anyone!”

“Morgiana.”

She looks up at him, eyes wide, he pats her on the head, just once. “You did that. I didn’t let you.”

She swallows hard, blinking, and her cheeks color slightly. “Oh. Well. Sorry, then.”

“You should be tougher on me, or I won’t get stronger.”

This time, he thinks he deserves the punch.


End file.
